a sharp blade
carving

shaving
after shaving

from a gnarled wooden
stick

or is it the sound
of your gravelly singing

and the many guitars
you've  owned and played

or the feel of stubble
or the smell of cologne

I don't know

but I'll can and will say
at the risk of selfishness

is your day is
mine too

and a day
will never be enough

Deceivingly simple, we sit down
On our ****** plastic step stools
After school in the kitchen.
You ask me how my day was. I say
Fine thanks, learned about quadratics.
I ask you where you went cycling. You say
Oh, you know, the usual. Round out
That way, and back. The usual.
We sit in silence for amount as I cut a slice of apple and hold it out to you across the room.
You take it, and we sit on our ****** plastic step stools
In the kitchen after school,
Sharing silence and an apple.
And I almost love the crisp, cool crunch
As much as I love you.

Padre day always felt so gray
Typically too clouded for anything uplifting to say on a personal plane
Nor much of anything for me to really celebrate

Many moving pieces, some removed before "too late"
This month wouldve marked year 8 -
Of revolutions and opportunities to be great.  I would've stayed and stumbled into ways to be brave.

Instead again I sit here and isolate

Called upon a necromancer for a family to raise.  He handed me a mirror and said, "Start here today."

I am grateful to be, and honor the planting of seeds from generations prior
But the cold washes over me alone staring at the embers of a life that was a fire.

I wouldn't say that this is all a test
Life is stress when comparing with the rest
Judge self only by your personal progress
Try not to take it personally and trust the process

When this sun sets, there wont be any regrets.  Instead whispers in the wind reminding you to keep steps to the beat in your chest

Ive had my talks with suns, moons, and planets in their orbit...in many driveways, backyards, and various porches.  Kicking it with night sky, a dark cave, with stars as my torches.  These conversations elevate and ultimately nourish.  Still, I can only fantasize about how we'd all have flourished.  One daydream at a time finding the courage to surface

His hand twisted the two wires,
          and the engine wondrously fired.

I yelled and cried when I broke my arm
          he easily wrapped it without alarm.

Sorry son, I can’t come to your game,
          the overtime list had my name.

Boy, there’s gonna be a delay,
          my big project is due today.

Your dad went out of town to speak,
          can’t play pitch and catch this week.

He picked up the phone and he heard me say:
          “Daddy, the cops wanna take me away.”

Tonight your dad’ll deposit his check
          then we can fix the car you wrecked.
                              ---------------
Thank you Daddy for all you’ve done
“Don’t thank me, your mama raised you, son.“

I regularly tear up with both sadness and joy
              seeing a daddy squatting, listening to his boy.

Father-son ties
mix long lows and splendid highs.
Yes, there are tears and yearning
for more than his earnings.
But now I see how my dad’s hand
protected and provided,
how he taught me to take a stand,
and showed me how to be a man.